


it's no mystery

by spheeris1



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Desire, F/F, Love (but in a non-healthy way), Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spheeris1/pseuds/spheeris1
Summary: Eve P.O.V // drabble // 'You weren't lying, in the end. You want to know everything.'





	it's no mystery

/ / /

She lets you watch her, watch her from afar, watch her from up close. You catch it all and catalog it – the fall of her hair, the slight lift to her lips, the inflection in her voice, where the muscles tense and twitch, the subtlety of her heartbeat behind her ribcage...

...she lets you see everything.

/

_Her blood is mesmerizing._

You are no killer, not really. Not yet. You don't want to play a game and you don't want to get away with anything. You want to just, you want to just just just.

You'd like to be inside of her. Maybe not sexually. Not really, not yet. But inside of her mind, inside of the sinew and the marrow, inside the moment she goes from a woman to a beast. You want to know why, how, who made her and what makes her keep going. You want to know where she goes – to eat, to sleep, to think, to fall apart, to scream and slip away from blue lights flashing.

You weren't lying, in the end. You want to know everything.

Her blood is mesmerizing, though. You kind of don't want to lose a drop of it on your skin.

/

She lets you follow her, with hidden cameras and eyes covered. She lets you get close, a cloud of perfume and gunpowder in her wake. She wants you near, nearer still, and you ache for her.

You ache down to the bone, brand new growing pains rattling your aging body, and still you cannot get enough. She pulls you forward, pushes you back, laughs in your face and beckons you with a single gaze. She's a real dick, an asshole of the highest form, but when she stops... oh, when she stops and turns towards you...

...she smiles at you like she adores you and you can't look away, you can't ever look away.

/

What you've given up. What you never had. She won't understand, her life lived unbound by anything and anyone. You were caged a long, long time ago, and just now have picked the lock. She's been roaming around forever now, too wild to be contained.

And she is wild, layers of snow where a soul should be and darkness running through her veins; she's a forest at night, unkempt and treacherous, easy to get lost in. You are lost in her, after all, aren't you?

Lost and found. What you shattered along the way, what you sacrificed in order to get a little closer, your own set of who, what, why, and wheres set on fire. You've been remade, haven't you? Shaped by her shadows, culled from the throngs and left to stand alone in her orbit, you've become the moon to her sun – or the sun to her moon, fuck if you know for sure.

You spin around each other, gravity just another fact that binds the two of you.

And you like it that way, don't you?

/

She wants you. She said so, ages ago, and you know it to be true. She wants to consume you, with her mouth and with her tongue, with her body and with her entire being.

And sometimes you feel like a pretty toy, one she holds back on playing with because she wants to delay the pleasure, doesn't want to lose the feeling of nearly there. Sometimes you feel like her keeper, noting her displays like a weary teacher or parent, clapping tiredly as she beams – full of herself, knives in her hands and bodies at her feet.

But she wants you, wants your attention, wants your praise as well as your disappointment, wants to know you are skulking around the corner and studying her endlessly. She wants to impress you, to confuse you, to find you hot on her heels across countries; she wants and wants and wants, so much so that you sigh into your glass of wine in this hotel room – five doors down from hers – and you don't know if you want to stab her again or finally beg her to touch you again.

_Or both. Both could be good._

You laugh into each sip, light-headed but not drunk, and you imagine her taking a bath, flesh warm and wet, and you turn out the lamp by your bedside and you fuck yourself as you think about fucking her and you want and want and want...

...so much so that you sigh into these soft cotton sheets.

/

There's dinner on the table. Laid out all nicely. And a bottle of red breathing between the plates. One candle lit, white wax slowly dripping down, and you feel afraid. Terrified even.

You stalk into all the rooms of your home, flipping every switch and opening every door, looking under the bed and behind the curtains. But you don't find her. There are traces of her everywhere, though – her imprint on your comforter, the scent of her lingering in the hall, a rug shoved where her feet moved quickly and quietly.

And you sit down, wired and wound up tight, staring at food still hot and wine too expensive. And your heart pounds in your chest, from a fear that won't let you go and from a desire that longs to take you over, and you wonder if she is watching you now.

Studying. Following. Taking notes and planning for whatever comes next. Wanting to know everything.

You wish you could tell her, tell her it is no mystery, tell her about how she has set you loose on the world and there's no going back. You wish you could have stopped her, been strong enough to end her, to avenge a friend taken. You wish she was here – sitting opposite you, draining this bottle while you savor every bite – and you wish you could reach out and have her, have the places within her that no one else has ever truly had.

It's no mystery, what's going on here. It's so toxic and it's so strangely tender, too.

You wish it wasn't so transparent. You wish she didn't know you so well and you wish you didn't know her at all. You wish you could have been a better person – a better daughter, a better wife, even a better agent, a better and calmer, cooler spy. Because a better person wouldn't eat this meal, drink this wine, pick up a knife, and wait for the front door to swing open. A better person would have walked away at the first sign of trouble, at the first sight of death and destruction.

But it's no mystery, is it? What's going on here, going on between you and her...

...it's love and it's obsession and it is everything. 

_This is everything. Everything._

/ / /

**(end)**

**Author's Note:**

> Saw those BTS photos for season two and got all excited again. Thanks to a cover of 'Diamonds Are Forever' & cheers for reading.


End file.
